


There's a strange love inside

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is Not a Failwolf, Derek Hale is a Softie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Forever a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Slash, Soft Feels, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Takes Care Of Derek Hale, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: “Derek,” Stiles said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “How are you feeling?”“W’happened?”“Oh my god,” Stiles said, smile slipping. “Seriously, dude?”“What.”“Okay, just let this be clear. The next time one— or multiple!— members of the pack are in trouble, try to at least resist throwing yourself right in the path of it all. Let Scott take a hit once in a while! It’s not going to do anyone any good if you suddenly die one day. You know?”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889
Comments: 26
Kudos: 498
Collections: Sterek Goodness





	There's a strange love inside

The first time Stiles took care of Derek Hale, it was in the silence.

The rest of the pack was out; chasing down the omega that had been bothering Beacon Hills or getting milkshakes at this point, Derek didn’t know for sure. The only thing he did know was that Stiles was at his side. Always at his side. With a cool cloth pressed against the claw marks going across his chest and warm amber eyes that never left his face.

Derek would like to say he’d never noticed them before, but he had. And he’d started to keep track. The times Stiles took care of him, that is. And the very first time, it was in the silence.

The second, there was howling all around them.

The howls of the pack. One after another, shattering through the air and making Derek wince. There were two hands pressed against his shoulder and he knew Stiles thought that somehow that would stop the bleeding. He always did. He always forgot Derek wasn’t human.

With him, Derek liked to play human.

So he didn’t growl or push the boy away. There was blood splattering his lips and he wrapped a hand around Stiles’s arm, searching his face. Derek didn’t like to admit when he was really afraid, because maybe that made things too real. But he could admit to being afraid when the blood was coming too fast and Stiles’s face was too pale.

“Hey,” Stiles said, pressing harder against the gunshot wound to his shoulder. “Hey, you’re not allowed to die on me, Sourwolf.”

As if he somehow had control.

But Derek could always agree with that voice. To those eyes. They were full of a million things; determination, hope, worry. Stiles had never looked at him without emotion. There was always some expression on his face. Some emotion in his words. His eyes.

“Stay with me,” Stiles would say. “Don’t die on me.”

And Derek never did.

The third time Stiles took care of him, it was after an encounter with a particularly mischievous witch. 

Derek wasn’t used to getting sick. He especially wasn’t used to being spoon-fed soup or wrapped in blankets while some soft voice read him stories. Because Derek wasn’t a child, okay? He didn’t need caretaking.

But then the entire pack had been incapacitated and what else could Derek do but go along with things? Stiles made enough chicken noodle soup to feed them all, but he only stayed in Derek’s room. Crashing in an old armchair next to his bed that couldn’t have been comfortable, but the boy never made a sound of protest.

There were cuddles that Derek would never admit to, storytelling nights that the rest of the pack enjoyed without being vocal about it, and then suddenly, they were all better.

No one ever really thanked Stiles for that. No one ever said a word.

Then the fourth time, Derek nearly died.

He woke up in the hospital. There may have been a couple of tubes in his arms and a head resting on his chest, but he stayed quiet, lost in the scent and feel of Stiles. Until the boy woke up with a tired blinking of eyes, that is. Then Derek blinked his own and Stiles’s face turned a dozen shades of red, a nervous hand running through his hair as he drew back. As if nothing had just happened.

Derek swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a little nervous too.

“Derek,” Stiles said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “How are you feeling?”

“W’happened?”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, smile slipping. “Seriously, dude?”

“What.”

“Okay, just let this be clear. The next time one— or multiple!— members of the pack are in trouble, try to at least resist throwing yourself right in the path of it all. Let Scott take a hit once in a while! It’s not going to do anyone any good if you suddenly up and die one day. You know?”

Derek blinked silently at him. Stiles blushed and ducked his head.

“I’m just saying.”

“Huh.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and grabbed the cup of water off the side table, pushing it into Derek’s hands. Derek took it carefully, watching Stiles over the top as he took careful sips. But the boy was looking anywhere but his face now. And before Derek could say another word, the hospital room door was opening and Melissa was stepping inside.

Her eyes darted between Derek and Stiles for only a second before she was stepping forward. And once more, Derek felt like his face was much too warm.

“So, Derek,” Melissa said, shuffling through the papers on her clipboard. “The good news is, I’m hoping to get you out of here tonight. And I sent the rest of your pack home hours ago. They’ve been here all weekend and that isn’t healthy for anyone, werewolves or not.”

Derek stared. “How long was I out?”

“That’s the moderately bad news. It’s been going on three days now.”

Derek looked sharply over at Stiles, feeling a little betrayed. But the boy was still avoiding his gaze. Instead, Stiles picked at the edge of Derek’s bed as Melissa continued to read off Derek’s vitals and standings. And by the time she’d finished, they were both giving Stiles what could only be considered a pointed look, and the boy’s gaze was firmly fixed on the floor. Derek sighed and Melissa shook her head, turning back out of the room.

The moment the door closed, Stiles’s eyes snapped back up. Derek glared at him.

“Three days?”

“Okay, hey, dude. It’s not my fault the wendigo decided to take a few good chunks out of the Beacon Hills grumpy-growly werewolf, alright? I told you to stop throwing yourself in the way of danger. But do you ever listen to me? No!”

Derek sighed. “So how long have you been here?”

The boy’s scent automatically changed and he dropped his gaze. Derek growled a little and Stiles’s eyes snapped right back up. “Only a little while!”

His heart audibly skipped a beat. Derek gave him a disbelieving look and Stiles deflated.

“Okay, fine. Maybe more than a little while.”

“How long is that?”

“... Uh, going on three days now?”

Derek growled again and Stiles ducked his head, scent warming up a little. It took Derek a moment to realize the boy smelled embarrassed, not scared. And when Derek’s growling had stopped making Stiles nearly wet himself, Derek didn’t know. But the boy didn’t seem very affected now, other than running a hand through his hair with a shrug.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

And _what?_

Because Derek had started keeping track of it all, hadn’t he? Every single time Stiles took care of him, that is. From the quiet nights in the loft to the loud fights in the preserve, to everything in between. But he’d just… he didn’t understand why. Why Stiles was always there. Why Stiles never left.

“But I could go,” Stiles said, looking uncertain. “If you want me to.”

Derek looked at him for a long moment, his mind still spinning. Then silently, he shook his head and a small smile tugged at the corners of Stiles’s lips again. The boy leaned forward, studying Derek’s face.

“Okay, Sourwolf. I’ll stay.”

And although Derek didn’t know why, although he didn’t know what possibly entice the boy to stick around, stay Stiles did. Always being there, always staying, no matter what. No matter how big or small the reason was.

Then the fifth time, Derek realized maybe he'd been thinking about this all wrong.

The pack decided it was ‘bonfire night’ which was much different from their usual ‘movie nights’. And usually, Derek couldn’t care what the hell they did. Except then Scott had sprayed too much charcoal lighter on the wood and the flames had roared up into the night sky the moment the match struck. The rest of the pack had just whooped, gathering close around it, but Derek found himself frozen in place.

For a moment, all he could do was stare. Stare at the flames, stare at the heat. There were echoes in his head and he didn’t realize he was trembling until there was a hand cupping the back of his neck and someone was leading him away.

Derek found himself on the porch of the Hale house, still shaking. Stiles sat him down and sunk down beside him, fingers still ghosting over the back of his neck. Moving up through his hair. Brushing against his forehead before moving through his hair again.

“Hey, Derek, you’re alright. You’re alright.”

Derek just whined, unconsciously leaning in closer to the boy’s warmth. His scent. Stiles continued to murmur soothing things, fingers scratching through his hair as he guided Derek’s head against his chest.

And Derek could smell Stiles’s nerves. His uncertainty. But for the moment, he just relaxed against the boy. Let himself be calmed by Stiles’s careful touches as the sounds of the crackling fire faded out. And Stiles’s touch never left. Not as the night went on. Not as Derek felt himself relaxing more and more.

If he listened hard enough, he could hear Stiles murmuring soft nothings. Words of; “You’re alright big guy, I’m here. I’m not going to leave you. You’re never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise.” The same things, the same comforts over and over again. Until Derek really found himself believing them.

Because Stiles was always there, wasn’t he? From the silence, to the noise. To the empty loft and everything in between. He was always there. He'd always been there. Always around. Always close enough that Derek could find solace in his scent, his heartbeat, his laughter.

And Derek would know. He’d been paying attention.

But just for that night, he didn't pay attention to anything. He just closed his eyes and let himself be pulled into the feeling of Stiles’s warm scent through his thin t-shirt. The fingers in his hair. The arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him in close.

For that night, Derek only paid attention to the feeling of _touch, comfort, right._ Of Stiles.

Of _his_.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: “I’m not going to leave you. You’re never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise.” and I always love a good angsty prompt! I had a lot of fun with this one and of course, I'd love to hear what you all thought!


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